by A. A. Bell
‘Well, what can you see?’
‘The trees. The sky. The bay. It’s a beautiful afternoon.’
‘That’s a matter of opinion. I think we could be in for another sun shower.’
‘Not as far as I can see. There’s barely a cloud in the sky.’
‘What about ghosts? Can you see any? Are you scared?’
‘No.’ She glanced around. ‘And no. We’re completely alone.’
‘I thought you said they were everywhere?’
‘Not at this time of day. They mostly live over the hill, near the old church.’
‘Okay, so what about my car? Can you see which end you’re sitting on?’
‘The front. But I can’t see it. I felt it before you lifted me up here. It’s invisible like you.’
‘You mean you’re sitting in midair?’
She nodded and shifted over the edge a little more until she could feel the ground with her feet.
‘Can you see your own hands?’
‘Not exactly, but.’ She raised both hands in front of her face and drew them slowly closer until her fingers were flat over her eyes. ‘I can see blotches of nothing where my hands are, a lot like the foggy darkness I see when I close my eyes, but much blurrier and in the rough shape of my hands instead of the shape of eyelids.’
‘That must be extremely confusing.’
‘Actually, it’s how I know for sure that I’m real. My skin is an almost-visible shell that keeps me whole. Sometimes, when I’m only half-sedated, I feel like I could dissolve into empty air.’
He stayed silent for a long moment, and she became more intensely aware of the warmth radiating from his body, his gentle breathing and his heartbeat, all still very close to her.
‘How about this?’ he asked.
She sensed his left hand shift away from near her hip.
‘You’re holding fingers up, very close to my face. I can’t see them, but I heard your hand move. I can smell your skin and feel my breath bouncing back at me, and I can see the foggy background in the gaps of nothingness in between each of your fingers.’
‘How many fingers?’
Mira shrugged. ‘Two or three. They’re too blurry to tell.’
‘Sounds like you’ve been drinking.’ He chuckled. ‘It’s a wonder you can see well enough to walk straight.’
‘All right, Mr Disbeliever. Watch this.’
She placed a foot either side of the Y-shaped root without having to fumble first to find it, then skipped a zigzagging pattern either side of it all the way to the tree — and instead of bumping into the trunk this time, she scrambled all the way to the top and swung upside down from the railing like a monkey.
She grinned, feeling giddy with independence. ‘What do you have to say now, Mr Invisible?’
‘I’m speechless. Were you having me on before, pretending to trip over things?’
‘I never trip on purpose. I told you, I hate tripping! Come on up again.’ Her grin broadened as she swung off the railing onto the platform. ‘Let me prove that I know my way around.’
‘Okay, but give me two seconds to put the first-aid kit away. On second thoughts.’
‘We won’t need it.’
Mira heard a brief shuffling sound, followed by a rattle and slam. Habit made her worry what he might really be up to if not putting the first-aid kit away.
It’s Ben, she reminded herself. He brought me here.
She turned away from the sounds and rubbed her eyes, feeling the burning sensation lingering in the corners near her tear ducts. The familiar older pain was growing stronger, as if moisture was being sucked out of her eyes through hollow hot needles. Don’t let him see it’s hurting more now, she thought.
‘I’m here,’ he said, startling her. ‘What do you want to show me?’
Mira turned away from the placid waters of Halls Bay and faced inland. ‘See the mountain range on that far horizon?’
‘Yes. What about it?’
‘Stand here at the railing and give me your hand.’
He obeyed, and she fumbled around behind him.
‘Kneel down. I want to show you something, but your eyes and mine have to be at the same level.’
Again he obeyed, and she crouched behind him, resting her chin over his right shoulder.
‘Now point your finger and let me control it.’
‘You’re not going to stick it up my nose?’
‘Don’t tempt me.’
Mira repositioned her hand so it was clasped around his; her small hand leaning over his shoulder to control his hand with her own pointer finger hugged parallel against his. But as she extended their arms together, trying to point him in the direction of the northernmost edge of the mountain range where the land met the bay, she discovered the difficulty in guiding an arm that was much longer and heavier than her own.
‘Try this,’ he said, standing up and bringing her around in front of him. He rested his chin on her shoulder and raised his arm alongside hers, once again releasing control to her. ‘How’s this?’ he asked, cheek to cheek.
‘Weird,’ she confessed, fidgeting at the heat of his proximity. ‘The only time anyone gets this close is when they’re forcing a needle into me.’
‘Frisk me,’ he said playfully. ‘No needle.’
She shifted her feet nervously for a moment, then traced her finger along the horizon, leading his with hers as she followed every jagged peak, gorge and plateau for a panorama of a hundred and eighty degrees until she reached an outcrop of tall trees and the flat water where the bay mouth met the ocean to the south.
‘Wow, that’s a great trick. Can you do it again the other way?’
She grinned and manoeuvred his hand back in the other direction.
‘That’s —’
‘Amazing?’ She laughed. ‘You use that word a lot, you know.’
‘Yes.’ He laughed too and turned his cheek closer to her. ‘I realised this morning during our chess and music activities that you have a brilliant memory for details. And you’re innovative too. I’ve never heard Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” played on a guitar before, but...’
‘My mother taught me lots of classics.’
‘Yes, you told me this morning, but this, Mira? This is astonishing! I know for a fact that you’ve been stuck inside institutions for over a decade, yet how can this latest trick be anything but memory?’
‘It’s not a memory and it’s not a trick. I can trace it because I can see it!’
Ben laughed again, but she frowned. ‘Spin me around, I dare you. Point my finger anywhere to start me.’
‘Okay, but not near the railing. Over here.’
He guided her to the middle of the platform so she couldn’t touch anything to get her bearings. Seven times he turned her around, mixing it up with three times in the opposite direction, each switch avoiding a full circle so that when she finally stopped, she wouldn’t be able to pin a tail on a herd of donkeys. Then he shifted around behind her, leaned his chin over her shoulder as he hugged her to his chest again, and pointed her finger beside his towards the horizon.
‘We’re not pointing to the bay,’ she said. ‘It’s behind me.’
He swung her arm around to the right. ‘How about now?’
‘That’s the bathroom and toilet.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Who’s blind now? Do you want me to show you?’
‘Wait,’ he said, turning her in three more part-circles as if twirling her in a slow dance. ‘Try finding the mountains now.’
‘Which end do you want me to start — north or south?’
‘You choose and tell me which is which.’
‘South.’ She tugged him around until they faced the south end of the bay, took care to point their fingers to the flat water where the bay met the ocean, then retraced the flat horizon inland until she found the jagged peaks of the Great Dividing Range and traced it further to her right. ‘North,’ she said, jabbing the air as if finger-painting a full stop on her
demonstration.
‘Okay, I’m officially dumbfounded. You can see the horizon. What else can you see?’
‘The railings. They were as solid as granite when my grandfather built them. That was nine decades ago, though, before my father was born. They’ve been replaced a few times since then. How do you think they look now?’
‘Pretty good for their age. A hundred-year-old treehouse; who would have thought?’
‘I don’t really know about the treehouse, but my family have lived on this land since the Second Fleet.’
‘Looks as if the timber’s soaked in some kind of black preservative.’
‘That’s oil to protect it against termites and rain.’
Mira heard him stride over to the nearest thick beam and make slapping noises as if he was testing it for sturdiness. ‘The railings are fine. It’s mainly the flat planks on the suspension bridges I wouldn’t trust. The rain and dew have taken a serious toll on them.’
‘That’s a surprise. My father only needed to replace them twice in all the time I can remember. The last time was only shortly before he died.’
She sprang onto the railing, landing with her bare feet three storeys above ground, like a tightrope performer, and skipped away from him.
‘Oh, hell!’ he shouted. ‘Mira, get down from there!’
She stopped and grinned back at him. ‘That’s tame swearing compared to what others shout at me.’
‘I can’t account for them while I’m off duty.’
‘You’re off duty?’ Her grin broadened. ‘That’s one more reason to enjoy it!’
‘Only if you don’t mind making more trouble for me. Now get down before you break your neck! You can’t possibly be as fit as you think you are!’
‘Nonsense, I fight a marathon with staff every day.’
‘I thought you were scared of falling?’
‘When I can’t see obstacles in front of me, yes! But let me demonstrate the benefits of being forced to stay fit at Serenity.’ She stretched slowly backwards and performed a back flip, teetering briefly until she caught her balance. ‘Okay, so maybe I should have cooperated a little more during exercises.’
‘Mira! Don’t make me come up there!’
‘I’m coming.’
But instead of turning back or jumping down, she ran further along the railing, swung around a vertical beam at the start of the nearest suspension bridge, then ran along the bridge railings without having to touch the much weaker deck-treads.
‘You’ll kill yourself!’
‘So sue me. See how far that gets you.’
‘I’m serious!’
‘Me too, Ben. Who’d miss me? I know some who’d even celebrate.’
‘Get down this instant, young lady!’
‘Take a pill,’ she replied, stretching her leg over a gap to the next railing.
‘Not the long way!’
She performed another back flip then skipped around the grove of treehouses from railing to railing until she was nearly back to her starting point.
‘Yell at me again, please? I don’t want to trip over you.’
‘That’s not funny, Mira.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, jumping down a short distance away.
‘You nearly gave me a heart attack.’
‘Oh dear, and who’d drive me back to Serenity then?’
‘Well... I suppose Steffi Nagle might volunteer.’
‘Don’t even joke about that!’
‘Would I need to, if you didn’t take such risks with your life?’
‘Ha! Do you think I’m afraid of dying? No, Ben, I’m afraid my life won’t ever begin. If it takes risks to get it going, I’m more than ready. Tomorrow starts today.’
‘Mira! You broke every bone in your body falling out of this treehouse.’
‘I didn’t fall out of anything. I was tripped. There’s a big difference. I told you, an invisible tackled me and. well, I don’t remember the rest. But I promise that I can swing up here like a monkey even with my eyes closed. I played up here every chance I got when my father was out fishing.’
‘Well, try to think of the fitness committee as a kind of father figure who won’t be impressed by that sort of thing. This is serious.’
‘You don’t think I know that? I’m desperate to prove how well I can cope here.’
‘Oh, yes! That I do understand. I wouldn’t mind living here myself. But we have to find other ways you can prove that you can be self-sufficient, using safe, normal, day-to-day behaviour. And you have to promise not to scare me like that again. Okay?’
She frowned but nodded.
‘Promise?’
‘Okay! I promise.’
‘Good. I think we should hold back on mentioning your ghosts and foggy blue visions for a while too. They’ll have to stay our little secret for now.’
‘That’s what I told you. But if I’m forced, I won’t lie. I refuse!’
‘I’m not asking you to lie. I’m just asking you not to mention them unless I’m with you, if you can help it. Is that okay with you?’
She nodded. ‘They won’t let me talk about them anyway.’
‘Okay, so let’s find something normal you can do that won’t scare any more years off my life.’
‘Ooh! I have an idea!’ She headed for the locked door to the kitchen. ‘I’ll make you some coffee.’
‘Mmm. Ten-year-old coffee. That sounds tasty.’
‘I didn’t say you had to drink it.’
She turned two of the timber slats on the door and locked them into place as ladder rungs, then climbed up and reached up to a hook inside the gutter with a hidden door key. ‘Each tree has its own key.’
‘Sneaky!’
‘I’m taking a big risk sharing my secrets with you, Ben, so please don’t betray me. You wouldn’t enjoy working with me ever again. I promise.’ She unlocked the door, inviting him to enter ahead of her.
Ben sighed. ‘If you’d been in the matron’s office this afternoon, that worry would never cross your mind. I stood up for you.’
‘I can tell. We’re here, aren’t we?’
He coughed at the dust as he walked in. ‘Do you want me to sit at the table so I’m out of your way?’
‘Actually, it might be better if you stand over there by the refrigerator.’
Ben obliged, and Mira heard the fridge door creak open. ‘Yikes!’ He slammed the door closed. ‘There’s alien life in there!’
Mira giggled. ‘I suppose nobody cleaned out the fruit after they took me away.’
She walked in a straight line to the small square kitchen table and touched the back of a chair. ‘See this?’
‘Yes, but describe it to me so I know you can too — or test your memory, at least.’
‘It’s got three dark slats at the back here.’ She pointed to each one. ‘To me they’re dark blue, but they used to be brown. And the legs are lighter. The other two chairs are both made of the light-coloured timber.’
‘So far, so good.’
‘Sure, but wait until I do this...’
She closed her eyes, picked up the chair and faced the darkest corner of the room before opening her eyes again. Then she walked very slowly and carefully with the chair and closed her eyes while she set it down in the corner and blindly felt the walls with her hands in order to position the seat and legs square to the corner.
‘Now can you see it?’ she asked.
‘As plain as the others.’
‘Lucky you. Because I can’t. From my perspective, it’s still sitting exactly as it was at the table. I can see it there, as clearly as I could when I came in.’ She returned to the table and swept the air where the chair had been. ‘Now it’s a ghost here, and invisible over there. An invisible chair for an invisible man. Care to sit now?’
‘Hang on — that’s impossible! The only thing that’s changed is its position!’
‘Please don’t use that word.’
‘What word — “position"?’
‘No, �
��impossible". Whatever’s happening is possible because it’s happening to me. The fact that I can’t explain it properly, or that neither of us can understand it yet, is only a temporary situation — at least, that’s what I have to hope and believe or else I really will go insane. In the meantime, you have to believe that I’m not lying to you. This is how it is for me, Ben. If I don’t take great care to remember exactly where and how I left that chair in the corner, I’ll trip over it now, guaranteed.’
‘Okay, so now what?’
She moved nimbly around the table to the sink and opened the cupboard door beneath it. ‘Watch this.’
She leaned aside to let him see all the way to the back of the top and bottom shelves, both completely filled with neat rows of everything she needed to make coffee, wash dishes and scrub floors.
‘That’s the neatest cupboard I’ve ever seen! There’s even circles drawn around all the containers so they can be put back in exactly the same places.’
‘It had to be that way, so my father knew where to put things so my mother and I could find them; same places that my great-grandfather kept everything. The only problem with the cupboard is that I can’t see the shapes drawn on the shelf. I have to take things out one at a time and put them back one at a time, always remembering exactly how and where I left them, or else I have the same problem as I do now with that chair.’
‘I don’t know what to say, Mira. It’s unbelievable, and yet you’ve shown me so much of yourself today, how can I not respect your explanations of your own perspective?’
‘Even if you don’t believe me, I have to say it’s a nice change that you’re still willing to listen. Usually by this stage, my explanation has blown up into an argument and I’ve been shuffled off to the nearest padded cell in a straitjacket. But there’s still more I need to tell you.’
‘Go for it.’
She turned on the cold tap at the sink. ‘I can hear water and feel it. I can drink it and quench my thirst, but I can’t see it unless a ghost happens to come in and turn on the water for themselves.’
She pointed to a coffee cup on the top shelf under the sink and a kettle on the bottom shelf. ‘Visible,’ she said, before moving each item.
‘Invisible,’ she said, after relocating the cup to the bench top and the kettle onto a wood stove in the corner. ‘I won’t bother filling or heating the kettle. We don’t have time to fetch and cut the wood or get the stove up to heat.’
